


the jury's out, but my choice is you

by lilibetpride



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Valentine's Day, at least An Attempt Was Made, fake dating but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29482116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibetpride/pseuds/lilibetpride
Summary: AziraphalehatedValentine’s Day.Oh, but nottheValentine’s Day that happened in February. No, he hated the Valentine’s Day his siblings subjected everyone in the middle of the summer.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	the jury's out, but my choice is you

Aziraphale _hated_ Valentine’s Day.

Oh, but not _the_ Valentine’s Day that happened in February. No, he hated the Valentine’s Day his siblings subjected everyone in the middle of the summer.

Most campers spent the year away, and Valentine’s Day became a holiday that happened with very few people on camp, and so for the last fifteen years, _another_ Valentine’s Day happened on the third Saturday of every July, arranged by Aphrodite’s cabin.

Chiron had long since abandoned any hope of order on that day, leaving the frenzied Aphrodite children to themselves, letting them rearrange Camp Half-Blood to accommodate whatever theme they had chosen for the celebration. It was one of the most anticipated holidays of the year, if only to eat heart-shaped cookies.

Aziraphale was, in spite of himself, a romantic. For the last few years, he has spent Valentine’s Day huddled up in his bedroom with _Pride and Prejudice_ playing, eating unhealthy amounts of ice-cream and yearning for the soft touch of a hand.

That said, his mother should come down from Olympus to strike down his siblings for the horrid display of romantic stereotype _their_ Valentine’s Day means. It’s like their goal was to make a mockery of love and romance, and Aziraphale has been dragged on to help despite his grumbling and groaning. There was no getting away from Gabriel, not even after he passed the age in which campers stopped coming to camp.

But this year — it was Aziraphale’s last summer. Next year, he’d be going to college and, hopefully, building a life for himself outside of the whole demigod thing… He’s still unsure if he prefers drowning in debt or being eaten, if he’s being honest.

The thing _is_ — he’d rather made a mess of things, and now he’s paying the price.

A week ago, when Gabriel smiled his most plastic smile and started talking about his duties as the Guardian of the Eastern Activities, Aziraphale should have stood his ground and told him to piss off. But he didn’t, because he was a coward.

Instead, he lied, like a liar.

“I have a date,” he said, even though he had never asked anyone on a date in his life.

The whole cabin turned his way, gasping as dramatically as they could. Aziraphale couldn’t blame them — besides his reluctant breaking of Oscar’s heart back when he was twelve and peer pressured into completing Aphrodite’s rite of passage, he’d never even expressed interest in dating. Which was weird, as Aphrodite kids did have a reputation to uphold.

He’d never seen Gabriel be so delighted with him.

“Oh? And who’s this lucky camper?” he’d beamed.

The words tumbled out of him before he could think twice.

“Crowley.”

Gabriel didn’t look delighted anymore. Neither did his siblings. Aziraphale almost regretted it. _Almost,_ because he really didn’t have another person to ask.

“Aziraphale,” Gabriel sighed, clasping a hand on his shoulder, “you can do so much better than _Crowley_.”

Aziraphale thought it probably was the other way around, but he smiled nonetheless.

“A date has never killed anybody,” he said, “it’s just for Valentine’s Day.”

The cabin held his breath as Gabriel assessed the situation. After an extremely long minute, he put on a smile again.

“I can’t argue with that logic!” Gabriel exclaimed cheerfully, and turned around to look at their siblings. “Besides, it’s always good to have a reminder of _why_ we don’t go around dating Athena’s kids!”

His mother _did_ have a grudge against Athena, passed on to her children. And as much as they liked the whole star-crossed lovers bit, they weren’t compatible on a fundamental level. Too cold and calculating for the passionate romance Aphrodite’s children longed for. Gabriel always said that Athena’s descendants could never love anyone as much as they loved knowledge.

If they only saw Crowley’s eyes whenever he talked about the stars, they’d understand there was no way that was true.

A week ago, after he’d finally managed to escape his sibling’s intense stare, he went on to find Crowley.

As usual, he was napping on the strawberry fields, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. He groaned as soon as he heard Aziraphale’s footsteps.

“If Beelzebub’s looking for me, tell them they can go suck a —“

Aziraphale snorted despite his nervousness. “It’s me.”

Crowley smiled, his eyes probably still closed. “Hullo, angel,” he patted the spot next to him. Aziraphale sat down, stealing a strawberry from a nearby bush in the way. “What brings you here? I thought you had a cabin meeting.”

“I got out of it earlier,” Aziraphale sighed, “I’m afraid I’ve made a mess of things.”

Crowley hummed, turning his head towards him. “Did you finally tell Gabriel to piss off?”

Aziraphale sent him A Look. “He’s the leader.”

“And you’re getting out of here in a few months, angel, and then we’ll never see his ugly face again.”

It was no secret that Gabriel and Crowley hated each other far beyond the normal rivalry between the children of Aphrodite and Athena. Aziraphale wasn’t sure of _where_ it came from, but it didn’t help him be any less of an outcast within his own siblings to be the best friend of the cabin’s number one enemy.

“I told him I have a date,” Aziraphale blurted out, like one would rip a bandaid.

Crowley choked. “You have?!”

“What — of course I don’t! When have you ever seen me ask anybody out?”

“Somebody could’ve asked you!”

“Oh, really? Who?”

Crowley sputtered and went red, his freckles instantly disappearing. Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter, because I told him it was you.”

Crowley choked even harder.

“Me?!”

“Who else?”

Crowley sat up, grass stuck on his hair and his blush spreading all the way to his ears. Aziraphale pushed every single thought that went into his head aside.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Crowley shook his head. “Crowley, I’ve spent the last five years trying to find a way to escape the absolute boredom of organising and running this event — there won’t be another chance for me to enjoy this day, and I should! I mean, it’s all about love and stuff, and that’s exactly up my alley —”

“Love?”

“I’m the son of the goddess of love! Of course I want to eat heart-shaped cookies and win a rowing competition!” And playing games, and doing corny crafts, and kissing Crowley senseless under the twinkling lights he’ll help set up...

“There’s no way we’re winning that.”

Aziraphale pouted. Crowley sighed.

“Fine, we’ll win the rowing competition.”

Aziraphale beamed. “See? We’re already a team for everything!”

Crowley flopped back down, throwing an arm across his eyes. “Fine, we’ll go together.”

“Really?”

“You owe me one.”

“Thank you!”

“Shut up.”

“It’ll be fun!”

It was almost too much fun.

Aziraphale severely miscalculated how much he _liked_ Crowley.

Obviously, he had to like him to be friends with him, but Aziraphale had tried very hard to bury any potential romantic feelings towards him before they bubbled up to the surface. The ghost of Lucifer’s disappearance two years ago still felt like an open wound sometimes, and Aziraphale swore he’d never try to replace him, not when Crowley had genuinely liked Lucifer and been heartbroken when he never returned from a mission. Aziraphale was just a friend to Crowley, and that was alright. More than alright, really, because his friendship meant more to Aziraphale than this silly crush he’s been harbouring for as long as he’s known him.

But Crowley had his way of carving a space for himself everywhere Aziraphale looked, and it only grew worse as the week progressed, culminating in him taking Aziraphale by the arm and showing him all the things he’d never seen before, stuck like he was in his duties.

There were the typical fair games, and the stands with food to share, and a selection of the corniest crafts possible. The younger campers ran around, laughing, while the older tried to make the boldest displays of love possible. Aziraphale was not dumb, and he knew his siblings influenced the unassuming campers into an state of fluffiness that they normally wouldn’t feel. The demigod equivalent of spiking drinks up like they did in teenage movies.

If Crowley was affected, he didn’t show it. He behaved exactly the same way as always — which was a sign as clear as anything that he wasn’t interested in Aziraphale in a romantic way. As much as Aphrodite kids liked to play matchmaker, they wouldn’t go around making people be lovey-dovey unless there was something there before — there was no fun in that. It was all about the yearning and the passionate love declarations.

Aziraphale just had to get through this day without making how much he pined over Crowley so obvious that Crowley realised and got uncomfortable. He just had to act like a normal friend would, even if Crowley made it difficult — with his wide smile and pretty nose and the way he said ‘angel’ like he didn’t care people thought they were together. Even if it was difficult simply because he enjoyed being with Crowley _so much._

Crowley had just won a bright pink plush snake — and Aziraphale was definitely _not_ looking at how the front of his shirt was soaked from trying to catch apples from a barrel — for him when Gabriel appeared out of thin air next to him.

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel clasped a hand on his shoulder, quite deliberately not looking at Crowley. “How’s everything going?”

“It’s lovely, Gabriel, thanks for asking,” Aziraphale clutched the snake closer to his chest, forcing a smile.

“Well, lovely’s what we do, isn’t that right?” Gabriel winked. Aziraphale wanted the conversation to be over.

“A bit too pink, if you ask me,” Crowley butt in, taking Aziraphale’s arm again, “too much of a cliché.”

Aziraphale was tempted to kick him in the ribs. Gabriel looked like he wanted to kick him in the face.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, _Anthony,_ it’s supposed to be pink.”

Crowley shrugged. “Could use some red.”

Gabriel opened his mouth, looked at Aziraphale, and then closed it again. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

Aziraphale didn’t have to look at Crowley to know he was surprised by this sudden and unexpected display of politeness. Even Aziraphale felt weird, and he _knew_ the current consensus in his cabin was trying to support their siblings in whatever choice of a partner they made.

“I won’t keep you from your _date!_ ” Gabriel chirped, too cheerful to be real. “Have fun and be safe!”

If Gea could just open the ground and swallow him whole, he would be eternally grateful.

Gabriel disappeared again, leaving them alone. The other campers were now going to the lake, the rowing competition a few minutes away.

“Your brother is so fucking weird,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale shrugged.

“Can’t argue with that — but let’s get going, you promised a win.”

They didn’t win.

As soon as they got into the boat, Crowley’s entire body language changed. Hastur and Ligur were competing too, and as soon as they saw Crowley they started jeering as loud as they could. Crowley was turning red, and no amount of blabber from Aziraphale could distract him from the new objective he set: knocking Hastur and Ligur down.

He knocked Hastur and Ligur down alright. And Aziraphale too.

“I’m sorry.”

Aziraphale, busy squeezing the water out of his shirt, almost didn’t hear him.

After being disqualified and running to hide from the very angry Hastur and Ligur behind the nearest tree, Crowley had fallen silent, looking very guilty.

“I ruined Valentine’s Day.”

And Aziraphale laughed, because there was really no way this day could get any more weirder.

“Ruined? Crowley, I’ve never had this much fun in the five years I’ve been here.”

Crowley looked surprised. “But — you’re wet.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve fallen.”

Literally and metaphorically. He’d fallen a couple of times into the water, and a thousand of times in love with Crowley.

“I wanted this day to be perfect,” Crowley sighed.

“I dragged you into this, you didn’t have to —”

“No but I — I was going to ask you anyways.”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to be surprised.

“You… were?”

Crowley groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re the son of the fucking goddess of love, can you really not feel it?”

Aziraphale chuckled nervously. “Feel what?”

Crowley groaned even louder. “You — Gods, you’re so…”

“So what?”

Crowley’s hands suddenly left _his_ face, instead coming to grip Aziraphale’s — or, well, not exactly _grip._ His touch was tender and soft, the same way he’d seen Crowley touch the bushes in the strawberry fields — and he could almost smell them in Crowley’s breath, his face so much nearer than it was before, or ever.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed out, the word and the world shaking, “are you sure?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” Crowley mumbled, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“But — Luci—”

“Angel,” Crowley cut him before he could finish the sentence, “there’s only you.”

It was too good to be true. He must’ve hit his head hard when he fell off the boat.

“You just have to say yes,” Crowley said, sounding even softer than how his touch felt.

_Oh._

And Aziraphale understood. There was no need for passionate love declarations, for the yearning that shook one’s core. His love for Crowley was a choice. A choice to fall and a choice to look for warmth where his siblings only saw cold. A choice to seek out the love where his siblings only saw knowledge. Even his mother herself could descend from Olympus to scold him and he would still stand his ground on this, the conviction he had found when he chose to love Crowley with everything he had:

There was no love without knowledge and no knowledge without love.

“Yes,” he said.

Crowley’s kiss tasted like strawberries and apples, and even with his eyes closed he could see the constellations in his freckles and the fire in his hair. He’d spent summers looking at Crowley and winters dreaming of him.

Troy could burn and Olympus could fall and still Aziraphale would stand there, the sunset and laughter fading into the background as his hands ran through Crowley’s hair, his lips chasing the smile that had settled on Crowley’s face the moment Aziraphale had chosen him.

Aziraphale used to hate Valentine’s Day, and Aziraphale had made a mess of things. But things worked out in the end — or, well, he’s the son of the goddess of love, he’s allowed to be as corny as he possibly can.

Things worked out in the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> valentine’s day is whenever i say it is! it’s my fanfic and i choose the crossover and the date! 
> 
> anyways hope you enjoyed this silly thing i wrote in one sitting! <3


End file.
